intangible
by turtleducklings
Summary: For some reason, this is the one picture that you've never been able to get just right. Riku/Naminé.


intangible.

**riku** & **naminé**

( _contrasting like black and white_ )

:: author's note: be warned, the fluff might kill you. ::

disclaimer: not mine.

* * *

You know what you see when you see him. You see darkness; cold and foreboding and so very _obvious_. You see a subtle grace; a bare glimpse of elegance underneath all of his apparent jagged edges. And you see beauty; it is hard to place, but it is _there_.

You draw him a lot. You draw him because you want to try to capture everything that makes him _Riku_, all his soft, midnight darkness and illusive grace and pure, unexplainable beauty. You've never been able to get it _quite_ right before, though, even with him in the room, sitting next you. You've tried what seems like thousands of times, but never have you been able to capture him on paper the way you see him with your eyes. But you're not willing to give up; not yet.

So you ask him every day; when drawing Sora's memories just becomes _too much_, you leave The White Room and walk through the mansion to the library, where you know you can find him. You grasp his arm, pull him out to the hall and whisper to him urgently.

_May I draw you_?

And a blush will tint his cheeks, stark against the deep navy of his blindfold and the shiny silver of the hair hanging in his face, and it will rudely remind you that underneath all of that blatant dangerousness there's a teenage boy, just seventeen, and that's all he _really_ is. But he'll humor you and nod, and you'll take his hand, winding your fingers through his_,_ and you'll lead him to your room. Then he'll sit down semi-awkwardly in a chair next to you, and you'll grab your crayons and paper and start.

You usually begin with the darkness. You'll grasp the blackest black crayon in your pale grip, and you'll draw him in his Organization coat. He always asks why you start that way, with the black, and you always tell him, _Because your darkness is the first thing that people see._

You don't tell him that His Darkness is different than a Heartless or a member of the Organization, don't tell him that His Darkness is blurred and just barely reachable, and not crisp and sharp and tangible like the others. You don't tell him because it's Your Secret, a mystery locked deep in the place where your heart should be, where no-one can ever find it.

After you've finished with that, you go on to portray his grace. To do this, you draw him with his Keyblade, in mid-swing. This is the only way you can think to show his incredible poise in a single scene, a moment captured in time. At first, you used to ask him to summon his Keyblade so you could use it as a reference, but you've drawn this picture so many times now that its image is imprinted behind your eyelids, and you don't need him to anymore.

You add the final touches to his weapon and set down your crayon, sitting back in your chair. You tilt your head to the side and look from the picture to Riku, and back again.

This is the hard part.

The part you can never get right.

The part that messes up the picture _every time_; that has messed up dozens of drawings.

Right on cue, Riku clears his throat. _What's wrong_?

_That's just the problem_, you say, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth, _I don't know._

You think, you think long and hard. _What can I do differently?_ You've tried to draw this part before, you've tried to get it in every way you can think. _What makes him beautiful?_

_Think... think... think..._

You nearly jump out of your chair when the idea comes to you. You turn to him. _Riku... may I... may I take off your blindfold?_

His mouth drops open in surprise and he stands up. You follow him, pushing your chair back from the table and stepping close. _Please...?_ He turns his face from you and sighs. He nods, barely perceptible.

You reach up tiny hands to wind around his neck to the back of his head. You feel for the cloth, find the ties, and tug. The fabric gently falls from his face to reveal his eyes, which are closed tight. _Riku..._

You cup the sides of his face and run the pads of your thumbs softly over his eyelids. They slowly open.

You gasp. There it is. _That's it! _You let go of him to run back to the table. You don't even bother to sit down again, you just bend over to frantically shuffle through all of your different colored crayons before grabbing a blue-green one; one that's the color of sea-foam. Your fingers fumble with it for a moment in your hurry before you set the tip of the crayon to the paper, your hand slightly shaking.

You put the color in Riku-Drawing's eyes. It takes only a moment. You set down your crayon. It _clacks_ as it hits the table. You pick up the drawing and hold it up to compare.

_Perfect._

Riku's face visibly lights up as you say it. The word was whispered, and you're surprised that he heard it. You gently walk over to him and grab his hand again.

_Want to help me hang it?_

He shakes his head, and instead bends down and kisses you. You close your eyes and lean into him.

When your eyes re-open, it's like seeing him for the first time all over again.


End file.
